A Colorful Life
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Daphne Greengrass, as told through fifteen color-themed drabbles.
1. Ivory (Daphne and Astoria)

_Daphne and Astoria, ivory_

_Word Count: 474_

* * *

"I have never looked good in white," Astoria says, frowning as she stares at her reflection in the mirror. She looks over her shoulder at Daphne. "Literally _never._"

Daphne snorts. "It's ivory, you uncultured buffoon," she says, affection clear in her voice.

"And you're just being pedantic. They're the same bloody color."

Daphne considers arguing with her. Ivory and white are very much _not _the same color. But she keeps silent. Something tells her that her little sister has more important things on her mind than the exact color of her wedding gown.

With a sigh, she climbs to her feet and moves closer, taking a deep breath. She isn't good at this. Astoria has always been the wordsmith, able to transform her voice into the greatest weapon. Her sister can bend even the strongest wills to her cause. Daphne both admires her and finds her to be absolutely terrifying, if she's honest.

But Astoria needs her right now. How many times has she been there for Daphne? Now, it's the most important day of Astoria's life, and Daphne knows she has to be there. She sets her own troubles and doubts aside and gently turns her sister to face her.

"You look absolutely beautiful," Daphne tells. "And it has nothing to do with the ivory lace or the makeup. It has to do with your happiness."

She still remembers her own hesitation when Astoria told her about Draco. Daphne knew him from school, and he was hardly the sort of boy she would want her sister to date. In the end, he proved to have grown. No longer was he the angry boy with a chip on his shoulder. He was now a man with love in his heart and eyes only for Astoria.

It shows too. Astoria smiles a little brighter now. She walks with that glow that only comes with love. She has learned to love herself so deeply that Draco is just a bonus, not the most necessary part of her life.

Daphne is grateful for it. Her sister has come a long way over the last five years. How can Daphne be anything but thrilled now?

Astoria hugs her and kisses her cheek. "Thanks," she says softly.

There's a knock at the door. Their father pokes his head into the room, smiling broadly. "You both look beautiful," he says. "Tori, are you ready?"

Astoria looks at Daphne; Daphne nods. That seems to be all the younger girl needs. Perfectly glossed lips twisting into a smile, she nods. "Ready." She squeezes Daphne's hand. "You should get into position."

Daphne offers her sister one last smile. "Right."

Blaise is waiting for her, ready to serve as her escort down the aisle. "How is she?" he asks. "Not ready to bolt?"

Daphne shakes her head. "Nope. She's ready to become Mrs. Malfoy."


	2. Ruby (DaphneFred)

_DaphneFred, ruby _

_Word Count: 542_

* * *

This can't be happening, but Daphne knows it is the moment she sees George's face. She doesn't have to keep searching the crowd for Fred anymore. The way George looks like he's on the verge of collapse is all the confirmation she needs.

"No," she says.

She had hoped to find Fred in the ceasefire, to hold him and tell him she loves him. It's all she needed to carry on.

Now, there's no chance. She drops to her knees in the middle of the corridor, crying out. So this is what it feels like when a heart breaks.

* * *

_Daphne knows him. Well, at least she knows of him and his reputation of trying to turn Hogwarts upside down with mischief. So, when she happens open and the ruby-red target he's painted on a wall in the Charms corridor, she isn't exactly surprised._

_"Do you play?" he asks, looking up at her with a grin that could melt even the coldest hearts._

_"You know I'm a Slytherin, right?"_

_He snorts and rolls his eyes before throwing the dart. It just barely misses the crimson center and sinks into the ring next to it; Daphne guesses he must have softened the wall with a spell. "Yeah. The green tie give it away. You wanna play or not?"_

_"I don't want to disturb you," she says._

_"I don't think it counts as disturbing me if I invite you," he points out, waving his wand and summoning the dart. "Do you?"_

_Daphne shrugs. One game won't hurt._

* * *

George is kind. Somehow, he is strong enough to lead her through the corridors. "I knew you would want to see him."

That isn't quite true, of course. She doesn't _want _to see him. No one wants to see a dead body, especially not when it's someone they love. But she knows she needs to see him.

She just nods mutely and follows along, wishing she could be anywhere else. Whispers surround them. Some who don't know any better recognize her as a Slytherin, as an enemy. She holds her head high and ignores them. They don't deserve her explanations.

The other Weasleys have gathered around Fred's body. They look as broken as Daphne feels. She steps closer and small gasp escapes her lips.

He is smiling death. She can't help but think how fitting it is. Still, her heart breaks.

This is Fred, _her _Fred, but he's all wrong. There is no life in his eyes.

* * *

_"Back for another rematch?" Fred laughs when Daphne finds him again. His eyes twinkle as he throws a dart, sinking it into the crimson bullseye. "How many times have I destroyed you?"_

_"I let you win."_

_He smirks. "Did you? In that case, let's play for real. Winner takes the loser on a date."_

_Her eyes widen, completely surprised by the bargain. She studies him for several seconds, uncertain what to say. Finally, she grins. "You're own. But don't cry when you lose, Weasley."_

_"Oh, I won't be crying today, Greengrass," he says. "I never lose."_

* * *

They didn't have enough time. They went out and fell in love, but it wasn't enough. Their plans for the future have now shattered. There is no hope left.

If only things could be different.


	3. Burgundy (Daphne and Tracey

Daphne and Tracey, burgundy

Word Count: 485

* * *

"What's so urgent?"

Tracey walks through the front door without knocking. Daphne doesn't mind. By now, the two of them have been friends long enough that those little courtesies don't matter. Their homes are always open to the other.

Daphne just grins. It takes several moments for her to formulate the right words. "We are celebrating tonight," she says, summoning a bottle of wine with a wave of her wand.

Tracey raises her brows. "I always love a good celebration, me," she says, happily removing the cork from the dark bottle and summoning wine glasses. "What are we celebrating?"

Daphne can barely contain her excitement. Maybe it isn't the biggest thing in the world, but it is so life changing. She bounces on the balls of her feet, her heart racing frantically in her chest. For a moment, she forgets how to breathe.

"I'm taking the leap," Daphne says as Tracey pours the burgundy wine into one glass, then another. "I've been talking to the head Healer at St. Mungo's, and I'm taking the written exam Thursday. If I pass, I can start training as a Healer before the month is over."

It seems strange to actually say it out loud. All Daphne has ever wanted to do is become a Healer. Her scores in Potions and Herbology had been well above average, and she always managed to master healing charms with ease. Becoming a Healer was a natural choice.

Unfortunately, the war made things more difficult. She thinks that maybe she could have made it, but she had been too scared to try. So many Slytherins were subjected to interrogations and rumors, even those who did nothing but good during those dark times.

She isn't exactly sure what's changed. There are still those who regard her with suspicion, those who only see her House, and not her good deeds. To hell with them. Their opinions mean very little to her. It's time for her to stop caring about what they think of her and start living for her own happiness. No one can take this away from her.

"That's incredible." Tracey hands her a glass before lifting her own to her lips, a bright grin on her face. "You're going to be brilliant, you know."

"I know."

She doesn't like to brag, but she doesn't really think it's bragging. She is confident in her own abilities. Healing comes naturally to her. How can she deny it for the sake of humility?

Daphne lifts her glass, gesturing for Tracey to do the same. Her best friend follows along, mirroring her motions.

"To new beginnings," Daphne says.

"To great things ahead of us," Tracey agrees.

Their glasses clink together, and they sip their wine. In this moment, Daphne thinks her life couldn't be any more perfect. She has an amazing friend, good wine, and a bright future ahead of her. What more could she ask for?


	4. Lilac (Daphne and Slughorn)

Daphne and Slughorn, lilac

Word Count: 611

* * *

Daphne narrows her eyes, focusing hard on the potion she's brewing. This is the moment of truth. She has measured each and every ingredient twice for enhanced accuracy. Every step has been followed to the letter. Only three more stirs clockwise, then five counterclockwise, and she will have her answer.

She realizes she holding her breath, but she can't seem to force her lungs to work. This is quite possibly the most complex potion she's ever brewed. Her cauldron suddenly looks so daunting, like a dangerous trap that holds a too-dark purple potion.

Slowly, the purple begins to lighten, and it takes every ounce of restraint to not scream out her relief. The potion within is a soft lilac, and she can smell the sweet hints of honey, as the potion's description says. A grin stretches across her face. She's done it!

"Well done, Miss Greengrass," Professor Slughorn says, coming to a stop by her cauldron. He fishes a vial from his pocket and captures some of the potion. The lilac shade is more pronounced, more beautiful in the light. "See here, everyone! This is a perfect example of what you ought to aim for."

Daphne's cheeks glow with heated color. She knows she's good at potions, but this is the first time her work has been used as an example. Professor Snape never bothered with it, and Professor Slughorn only ever seems to promote his favorite students.

"Miss Greengrass, I would like a word after class, if you don't mind."

"O-of course," she murmurs, her mind racing. What could he possibly want? As far as she knows, she hasn't done anything wrong.

She doesn't have long to wait, but those last ten minutes feel almost agonizing. An eternity seems to pass before he tells everyone to bring their potions to the front. For the most part, there are shades of purple. A few are more blue, and one poor soul managed to make a brown potion that looks unusually sticky. None of them are a perfect lilac, and Daphne's seems to stick out.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" she asks, approaching his desk.

Professor Slughorn nods, pulling out a bottle of Scotch and two glasses. "Drink?"

Daphne raises her brows. "I'm not sure that's appropriate, sir," she says.

He considers for a moment. Frowning, he sets the second glass aside and pours himself a generous serving. "I suppose you're right. Tell me, Miss Greengrass, have you considered tutoring?"

She shakes her head. Well, it isn't quite true. She's helped Millicent a handful of times, and, when everyone still took Potions, she helped Crabbe and Goyle avoid melting their cauldrons. But the idea of actually doing more has never crossed her mind.

"You show so much potential, Miss Greengrass. I wouldn't be surprised if one day I learned that I'm looking at my replacement," he tells her. "If you consider tutoring, let me know. There are quite a few younger students who could use a helping hand."

Daphne nods, unsure what to say. She wonders how many would actually want to learn from a Slytherin.

"In the meantime, I'm hosting a little party this Friday. I would be most honored if you would attend."

Her eyes widen at that. Slug Club parties are so ridiculously exclusive. Blaise has asked her to accompany him a few times, but she's always made excuses to not go. Having her own invitation, though… That's an entirely different story.

She smiles. "The honor would be all mine, Professor Slughorn."

Brimming with pride and excitement, she hurries off when he dismisses her. She's one step closer to being something truly brilliant, and she can hardly wait.


	5. Aquamarine (DaphneBlaise)

_DaphneBlaise, aquamarine _

_Word Count: 481_

* * *

Daphne swallows dryly, her heart pounding at the sight of the aquamarine light that surrounds her, concentrated around her stomach. It's the third spell she's cast, and that's all the proof she needs.

There's a knock on the door. "Daph? You okay?" Blaise asks. "You've been in there for a while now."

"Y-yeah."

She takes a deep breath. Her family is not so traditional. They will not see something like this as shameful. Blaise's mother, on the other hand… Mrs. Zabini places a little too much emphasis on tradition. It's a miracle she hasn't pushed Blaise into an arranged marriage, and that she's allowed him to date Daphne for three years now.

Now, the bright blue light says that their commitment has to change, that it has to become unshakable. How will he react? The doubt is fleeting, flashing through her head for only a second, but it's there. This will change everything between them. Blaise has always been reliable, but will he be okay with this?

Truth be told, Daphne doesn't know how she feels. She is only twenty, much too young to be a mother.

Still, despite to doubt that clouds her mind, she can feel the soft flutter of joy within her. A smile pulls at her lips.

"You can come in," she says.

The door open. Blaise freezes, gripping the door frame for support. "Is that…?"

"A pregnancy spell, yeah," she confirms.

This could end in tears. Unfortunately, she is all too aware of that, and she is ready to pick up the pieces and find a way to move on if she has to.

But Blaise smiles and moves closer. He reaches out, his hand passing through the aquamarine ribbon that has twined itself around her slender body. "I'm going to be a father," he whispers. His smile brightens, and he repeats the sentiment, a little louder. "I'm going to be a father."

"Yes." Daphne laughs, reaching down and taking him by the hand. She brushes her thumb over his knuckles, smiling to herself. "Your mother is going to insist that we get married."

"Is that really such a bad thing?" he asks.

"It is if we're getting for the wrong reasons."

His lips twitch, and he shakes his head as he pulls his hand away. "Daph, listen to me," he says, cupping her face gently in his hands. "I love you. If you ask me, that's a damn good reason to get married."

"That's why?" Her voice trembles slightly. "Not because you feel obligated to?"

Blaise kisses the tip of her nose, and Daphne giggles. "I don't do anything unless I want to. You know me better than that."

It's true enough. She smiles, feeling positively giddy at that. All stress has faded, and now there is only hope and joy. They are going to be a happy little family, and she can hardly wait.


	6. Indigo (Daphne and Hagrid)

_Daphne and Hagrid, indigo_

_Word Count: 616_

* * *

As far as Daphne can tell, the pumpkin patch seems to be the only place she can find the flowers. From time to time, she will see the dark indigo petals hidden among the weeds near the castle, but the pumpkin patch seems to be where they thrive. She doesn't know what they are, if they are magical or mundane, but she has grown quite fond of them.

They look so lovely, their dark petals causing the orange pumpkins to really pop. Daphne walks along, smiling as she breathes in the sweet perfume. She's never smelled anything quite like it before. Her mother's beloved roses cannot hold a candle to the indigo blooms.

"Oi! Thought I told yeh ter stay away from there!"

The booming voice startles Daphne. She turns, nearly stepping on a pumpkin. In her desperate attempt to not stomp it, her foot tangles in the vine, and she crashes to the ground, swearing softly. A rock has scraped her elbow, and she imagines her bump will be bruised from the fall. All in all, though, nothing is wounded but her pride.

"S-sorry," she calls, wincing as she stands. It hurts to put weight on her left ankle. She imagines it must be twisted. Glancing down, she notices the indigo stains on her jeans, then sees the crushed flowers where she landed.

She tries to walk toward Hagrid, but she stumbles. The groundskeeper moves closer, walking with surprising grace for his size. Then again, she's noticed he's always much different around plants. Hagrid holds out a massive hand. "Yer hurt," he says. "C'mon. I'll send a message back ter th' castle. Yeh can wait in me hut."

"I didn't mean any disrespect," she tells him. "I know you work hard on the pumpkins."

To everyone else, it may just be a silly vegetable patch. But Hagrid tends to it with nothing but pride.

"I thought yeh were some o' them troublemakers," Hagrid explains. "Few o' 'em were in there last week, stomping some o' the tiny'ns."

She frowns at that. Though she will never rat them out, she knows it was Crabbe and Goyle. She doesn't understand why they want to be cruel to Hagrid, but she knows that they are not alone. Even some of the more "open-minded" students regard him as some sort of brute. She doesn't believe that, though. She has seen how kind he is to Harry Potter. A brute wouldn't be so gentle with her, so quick to get her to safety.

He leads her inside the hut. The bloodhound, a giant dog called Fang, tries to jump on her, but Hagrid sends him away before helping her to a chair.

"Cuppa tea?" he asks. "Rock cake?"

The rock cake looks too much like an actual rock for her to trust it. "Tea is fine, thanks."

With that, Hagrid sets about, preparing the kettle. "Didn' mean ter scare yeh earlier," he tells her.

"I know. Thanks for helping me, Hagrid," she says. "You're a good man."

Beneath his shaggy beard, she can see his face glow a faint pink. She doesn't know whether to laugh or feel sorry for him. Is it really that strange for him to receive a compliment? Maybe so. She knows her own House can be quite cruel while other Houses prefer apathy.

Daphne will not take that approach. Hagrid has been kind to her despite her being a stranger to him. He has to have noticed the Slytherin tie around her neck. Still, despite it all, he has treated her with respect and hospitality.

She makes a vow to herself. From this day forward, she will approach each stranger with the kindness of Hagrid.


	7. Taupe (Daphne and Scorpius)

_Daphne and Scorpius, taupe_

_Word Count: 463_

* * *

Daphne swallows down a laugh when her nephew walks out sporting a taupe suit jacket over a white shirt. It isn't terribly funny, of course. Maybe it would look natural on someone her age, but Scorpius is fifteen. He has no business dressing like an ancient librarian.

"You hate it, don't you?" he sighs, smoothing his hand through his tidy blond hair.

"I don't hate it," she says, clearing her throat. "I just don't love it."

He looks so crestfallen at that. Daphne groans. Scorpius is about to go on his first date. The last thing he needs is for his aunt to break his heart. Unfortunately, the taupe is boring, and she just knows he's setting himself up.

"Look… The color is…" She hesitates, pursing her lips as she decides on the proper way to approach this. "Well. It's a bit not good, don't you think?"

He looks down at his outfit. The way he frowns makes Daphne think that he may not see an issue with what he's wearing. That's a problem. How can her nephew be this ignorant to the rules of fashion?

"What's wrong with the color?" he asks. "It brings out my eyes."

"No. It doesn't. Taupe doesn't bring out anything. That's the point of it. You need something that makes a statement. Something that tells the world that you are a sleek and sophisticated young man, and the world is your oyster."

"I hate oysters."

Daphne sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. "It's a metaphor. Look. Just trust me, okay? You really like this girl, yeah?"

Her nephew sighs, looking so hopelessly lovesick at the reminder that he will see Rose Weasley in just under an hour. Bless him. The kid is adorable, all cute with puppy love.

"She's amazing," he says. "Did you know her hair smells like strawberries?"

Emphasis on the hopeless.

"Come on. Let's get you changed."

…

It takes twenty minutes, but the transformation is damn near perfect. He no longer looks plain and quiet. Between the black outfit and the emerald tie for a pop of color, he looks like he is ready for a night on the town.

"Blimey." Scorpius stands in front of the mirror, striking pose after pose. He looks ridiculous, but in the most handsome way possible. "I look good."

"Yes," she agrees. "Now, go out there and have a good time."

Scorpius nods and starts toward the door. He stops and turns, a soft pink blush staining his cheeks. "Aunt Daphne? What if I want to kiss her? How do I do that?"

She bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. She can only prepare him so much for his date. The rest of this is up to him to figure out.


	8. Cerulean (Daphne and Neville)

_Daphne and Neville, cerulean _

_Word Count: 521_

* * *

It seems strange that the day would be so beautiful. The war has ended only hours ago, and the weather outside is beautiful. The sky above is cloudless and most perfect cerulean like in travel brochures.

It feels like it should be grey, like the landscape should be on fire. The grief is so heavy, but the earth doesn't seem to care. It just keeps on spinning.

As she walks along the lake, Daphne wonders if she will ever be able to do that. Can she just carry on like nothing has happened at all? It seems like an impossible task.

"I've been looking for you."

The voice brings her back to the present. Daphne pauses in her trek and turns, offering Neville a small smile. "I needed some fresh air," she explains.

She's been in the hospital wing for hours, volunteering alongside several other students. It started to weigh on her quickly. She's glad to finally get away.

"I brought breakfast," he tells her, fishing out a chocolate bar from his pocket.

Daphne chuckles. "You know that isn't actually a meal, right?" she asks teasingly. "I mean. It isn't a healthy, balanced breakfast."

Neville shrugs and breaks off a piece, popping it into his mouth. "Are you going to take it or not?"

Really, she's starving. It seems like it's been years since she's eaten. There's a small feast set up in the Great Hall, but she doesn't have the energy to be around people.

She snatches it away, breaking off a piece and eating it, savoring the sweetness on her tongue. "I said it wasn't healthy," she mutters, "not that I wasn't going to eat it."

She goes to hand it back, but Neville shakes his head. He pulls out a second chocolate bar and nibbles it.

"Did you raid Honeydukes while no one was looking?" she teases.

It seems so bizarre. The world isn't supposed to keep turning. There are so many dead and wounded throughout the castle. The world is supposed to fall apart with grief. She and Neville are supposed to be inconsolable and trying to find the will to carry on.

Instead, they're standing under a cerulean sky, laughing and eating chocolate. But it isn't as though they aren't still grieving. They are just trying to find some semblance of normalcy, and she is grateful for that. It makes her feel less alone, less likely to collapse and lose her mind.

"We're going to be okay, aren't we?" she asks.

Neville laughs, and the sound is dry and hollow, without humor. "It doesn't feel like it, does it?"

"Not at all."

He leans against her, sighing heavily. She rests her head against his shoulder, glad to have him by her side. Over the past year, he has become a dear friend. When others questioned her desire to join Dumbledore's Army, Neville stood by her. She thinks the world would be so much darker without him.

"I think we'll figure it out," she decides.

"What makes you so sure?" he asks.

Her lips twitch into a soft smile. "Because friends make it easier to carry on."


	9. Copper (Daphne and Alecto)

_Daphne and Alecto, copper _

_Word Count: 476_

* * *

Really, Daphne isn't surprised to find herself called into Alecto Carrow's office. Deep down, she always knew it was a matter of time. Alecto and her brother have their claws deep in the heart of Hogwarts. Their corruption runs deeper than should be possible.

Since their arrival, they have transformed things for the worse. Some of her Housemates might have had questionable morals before the Carrows came along, but they weren't cruel or sadistic. Now she sees the shift. Crabbe and Goyle have taken a sick pleasure in knowing they can exert power over the defenseless, and it makes her sick.

Now it looks like Alecto has set her sights one Daphne.

"Tea?" Alecto asks, tucking her short, stringy copper hair behind her ear.

At least Umbridge had the decency to pretend to be friendly. Alecto's words come out as more of a snarl. It's clear that she hates being here, and Daphne can assure her that the feeling is mutual.

"No," Daphne says, standing tall and proud, watching the older woman with apprehension. "I'm fine, thanks."

"Very well. Do you know why I called you here, Greengrass?"

Daphne can imagine. Unlike far too many in her House, she hasn't given in; she has no intention of letting their corruption sink into her soul.

She doesn't say this. Instead, she just shrugs. "I reckon you needed to speak with me?"

Alecto doesn't seem to buy her ignorance. She pushes her hand through her hair, copper strands clinging to her pudgy fingers. Daphne can practically hear the war going on inside her head. She wants to punish Daphne the way she would any other student who played coy. At the same time, though, Daphne is a Greengrass. Progressive or not, her family is still one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Her name affords her some protection in these uncertain times.

"Obviously," Alecto grinds out. "Do you know why?"

"Haven't got a clue." Daphne smiles sweetly. "Do you mind enlightening me, Professor Carrow?"

"I'm not sure what sort of game you are playing, girl, but it is a dangerous one. We've notice you and your sister. Why can't you just accept that things have changed, and you need to change with them? It won't hurt."

Daphne laughs. It won't hurt her or Astoria, but there are plenty of others who would suffer if she gives in. She doesn't fight for herself; she fights for them.

"Think about it," Alecto says before gesturing toward the door. "Out of my sight."

Daphne feels relief flood her body as she hurries out of the office. So, they've caught on at last. Daphne isn't sure how she feels about that, but it's no matter.

All that changes is that she's more determined than ever to make a difference. And, as she passes by Ginny Weasley, she smiles. She knows just where to begin.


	10. Plum (Daphne and Marcus)

_Daphne and Marcus, plum _

_Word Count: 475_

_Warning: mentions of abuse_

* * *

The first time she sees Marcus outside of Hogwarts, Daphne noticed a clear difference. Marcus has always been so tough, but there's something more vulnerable about him now. His posture is different as he walks through Diagon Alley, and he seems to cower. Worse still, there are shades of plum mixing in with blue and yellow-green, forming nasty bruises on his skin.

Maybe she should mind her business. That's what Pansy would tell her. What families get up to in the privacy of their own homes is no one else's concern.

But Daphne decides to make it hers. When someone like Marcus Flint is hurting, no one really sees it. Maybe they do, and they just don't care. After all, Marcus isn't exactly the most beloved bloke at Hogwarts. Daphne doesn't care, though. Her heart breaks whenever she sees anyone hurting.

"I see a friend from school," she tells her father. "Can I say hey?"

"Of course, dear. Meet back at the Leaky Cauldron in a half hour, okay?"

"Yes sir!"

Beaming, she skips along until she reaches Marcus. "Hi, Marcus!"

He turns. Up close, it's even worse. Plum rims his left eye, and his jaw seems to be swollen. "Daphne," he says curtly.

She sees the way he glances at his father. There is so much fear in his dark eyes, and it's easy for her to put the pieces together. Though it kills her inside, she turns to Mr. Flint and offers him her most winning smile. "Daphne Greengrass," she says, holding out her hand. The older man shakes it. "I'm a friend of Marcus'. Do you mind if I steal him for a bit? Mr. Fortescue has a new flavor out, and I'm dying to try it."

Mr. Flint looks like he wants to send her away, but he just shrugs. "You have half an hour," he growls at Marcus. "Don't be late." And with that, he stalks off, disappearing into the crowd.

Marcus turns to her, dark brows knitting together in confusion. "You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?" he asks. "We aren't exactly friends."

"You looked like you wanted to be anywhere else but there," she says. "Does anyone else know that he hits you?"

"You need to mind your damn business," he snaps.

She rolls her eyes. "You sound like Pansy."

"No. I sound like someone who knows how to mind his business." He softens slightly and sighs heavily. "I'm sorry. I just…"

"It's personal," she says. "I get that."

He smiles at that. She wonders if he knows how much better he looks when he's happy. "Was the ice cream a lie?" he asks.

"Nope! Triple chocolate cheesecake ice cream is officially on the menu," she says. "Would you like to join me?"

Marcus holds out his hand, still smiling. "It would be an honor."


	11. Olive (Daphne and Theo)

_Daphne and Theo, olive_

_Word Count: 545_

* * *

"Theo?"

Daphne has never seen the upstairs of the Nott estate. She stands in the second floor hallway, looking around, unsure exactly which door to choose. "Theo, it's me."

She knows he's in here. The house-elf downstairs confirmed as much. The Aurors took him in for questioning after his father's arrest, but he back and mostly alone in this giant home.

The door at the end of the hall opens, and she catches a glimpse of freckled skin and sandy blond hair. "What are you doing here, Daph?" he asks.

"What do you think?" She moves forward. "You haven't answered anyone's letters. We're all worried about you."

The war hasn't been easy on any of them. Though she fought against the Death Eaters, people still regard her as dangerous, as a traitor. Pansy's stunt in the Great Hall has earned her a level of infamy that seems to grow day by day. Even Blaise, who kept his head down during the war and remained neutral as can be, has been painted as some kind of monster.

But Theo nearly became a monster. His father wanted him to join the Dark Lord, but Theo was able to reject the notion that he ought to take the Dark Mark. The world doesn't know that, though. To them, he is little more than a Death Eater's spawn, scum they would like to hurl in Azkaban.

"Come in," he says. "My room is a bit of a mess. I would clean it, but that would require actually caring."

She follows him inside. It is, in fact, a mess. It looks as though a hurricane has struck his room and left it in chaos. Holes litter the olive walls, and broken pieces of furniture are strewn across the white carpet. His bookshelf and desk have been knocked over, their contents spilling upon the floor. The only thing that doesn't seem to have suffered his wrath is his bed.

Daphne sits at the foot of the bed, awkwardly smoothing her hand over the olive sheets.

"Spit it out, then," he says.

"I miss you," she tells him. "We all miss you."

Theo scoffs. "That's just too bad, isn't it? They're trying to crucify me, Daph. Had a bloody idiot try to rip my sleeve off to prove I'm a Death Eater," he snaps as he takes a seat, keeping a careful distance between. "I don't think I'm wanted out there."

"You are. By me. By the people who matter," Daphne says, reaching out and resting her hand on his. "Why should you care about those people who don't give a damn about you?"

He purses his lips. Silence hangs between them for several long moments. Finally, he shrugs. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Keep living," she answers. "This is the start of a new chapter in your life. You get to decided what to do with everything now."

Another stretch of silence. Theo's lips slowly tug upward into a hint of a smile. "A new start." He nods, seeming to enjoy the idea of this. "How do I begin?"

"However you want. It's your life."

Theo considers this. He climbs to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. "Come on. I think I fancy a bite at the Leaky Cauldron."


	12. Violet (DaphnePansy)

_DaphnePansy, violet _

_Word Count: 491_

* * *

_"I don't know why you like violet so much," Pansy says with a roll of her dark eyes._

_Daphne looks up, smiling as she wipes her hand over her forehand. The motion leaves behind a violet streak. "Because it's perfect. It's femininity without the expected shades of pink," she answers. "Soft, but unexpected."_

_"Sort of like you?" There's a teasing note in her girlfriend's voice as she approaches._

_Grinning, Daphne sets the paintbrush aside. Paint splatters onto the drop cloth as she wraps her arms around Pansy and pulls her closer. "Exactly like me."_

…

Daphne is older now. Too old. By now, she has stopped counting her birthdays. All she can remember is Pansy died three weeks before her ninety-seventh birthday, and that somehow feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe it was. Who can really keep up?

She steps into the music room. The walls are still violet, though the paint has aged over the years. How many memories did the two of them make in this room?

…

"_Champagne?" Daphne asks when Pansy sets the bottle atop the piano. "What's the special occasion? Our anniversary was two months ago. Your birthday is next month…"_

_Pansy sits beside her on the piano bench. She squeezes Daphne's hand gently. "Do I really need a reason?" She presses a kiss to Daphne's cheek. "Maybe I just want to celebrate being in love with you."_

…

For nearly a century, Pansy was hers. There were good days and bad, but they shared them together.

Now, Pansy is gone. Daphne still doesn't know what to do with herself, and time has not yet healed her wounds.

She sits at the piano. Her once delicate fingers are gnarled and arthritic, and playing piano is a thing of the past. There's a potion that can help, but she won't take it. Who will listen to her play now that her love is gone?

…

_"You could be a professional pianist," Pansy says. "I'd pay tons of Galleons to see your shows."_

_Daphne chuckles, fingers moving gracefully across the ivory keys. "I don't play for other people," she says. "I play for myself."_

_Pansy shrugs. "You play for me."_

_"Yes, but you're my world. Of course you get to listen."_

…

There's a heaviness in her heart. For a moment, she thinks that maybe the weight of the memories is too much, that she is going to break. But then she gasps for breath that refuses to come, and the world is suddenly edged with black.

…

_"I still don't like the walls," Pansy tells her. "Why can't we paint over them?"_

_"Because you love me."_

_Her lover snorts. "Spoiled."_

_"Yeah?" Daphne's lips twist into a triumphant smirk. "Who's the one who spoiled me?"_

…

The last thing she sees in this life is the violet paint she loved so much.

The first thing she sees in the next life is the woman she loved even more.


	13. Maroon (Daphne and Ginny)

_Daphne and Ginny, maroon _

_Word Count: 430_

* * *

Daphne is surprised when Ginny approaches her outside of Honeydukes. Admittedly, no one from Dumbledore's Army has really bothered to speak to her, aside from Neville. But for someone to actually approach her? She doesn't know whether to question the Gryffindor's sanity or to feel flattered.

"You can't be the only one," Ginny says.

Daphne raises her brows. "Care to elaborate?" she asks, moving forward.

Ginny walks with her. She keeps a safe distance so that anyone who sees them might think they just happen to be walking in the same direction. "There have to be other Slytherins who want to take Hogwarts back," she explains, running her hands over her maroon jumper. "I find it hard to believe that every single one of them is happy with what the Carrows have done."

"Happy? No." Daphne shakes her head, frowning. "But self-preservation is a Slytherin trait. No one is stupid enough to challenge the status quo."

"Except for you."

Daphne laughs. It's a fair enough point. She hadn't thought of it as stupid when she first approached Neville about joining the resistance. She shrugs. "Except for me," she agrees. "Then again, I suppose there's a reason I'm not a Ravenclaw."

They move along in silence for several minutes. The cool autumn breeze caresses their exposed skin, and Daphne feels a stab of envy at the hand-knit maroon warmth that Ginny wears.

"You obviously have a reason for approaching me," Daphne says when they reach the Shrieking Shack. Not many people venture out this far. They are safe from prying eyes for now. "We aren't exactly friends."

Ginny frowns. There's something like guilt that flickers over her freckled face. "Right. Sorry about that."

"Not a criticism. Just a fact. I promise I don't lose sleep over or cry into my tea because a Gryffindor doesn't want me."

Ginny relaxes at that. A hint of a smile plays at her lips as she leans against the fence. "Do you think you could bridge the gap?" she asks. "Slytherins and everyone else? If anyone can, I think it would be you."

Daphne considers this in silence. Maybe it's true. She knows which members of her House are not content and which ones are likely to actually do something about it. She has knowledge that no one else in Dumbledore's Army does. It makes her more valuable than most realize.

But Neville and Ginny see it.

"One condition."

Ginny looks like she's ready to walk. "What?"

"I would really love a jumper like that."

Ginny smiles, nodding. "I'll send word to Mum," she says.


	14. Ocher (Daphne and Poppy)

_Daphne and Poppy, ocher _

_Word Count: 404_

* * *

Daphne wrinkles her nose as she transfers the paste from the cauldron to the container. It doesn't smell bad; it smells a bit like pears. The ocher color, however, doesn't look particularly pleasant. It's supposed to assuage tooth pain, but Daphne can't imagine willingly putting that stuff in her mouth.

"Brilliant," Madam Pomfrey says, lifting the first container and holding it up, examining it in the sunlight. "You see that hue? It's a rich, earthy pigment. This is one of the most perfect pastes I've ever seen."

Daphne beams, cheeks glowing with warmth at the praise. She had been worried about the quality of it. It's her first time making the toothache remedy, after all.

She doesn't know why she still worries. This is her second month to study under the castle's Healer. So far, she has succeeded at everything, though some ventures took a few attempts.

"Just finish transferring them, and you're done for the day," Madam Pomfrey tells her.

Daphne frowns. She knows she doesn't need to do too much, and her inexperience greatly limits the things that she can do, but she wants to do so much more. So far, Madam Pomfrey has limited her to just preparing potions and memorizing the proper storage order in the cabinet.

"Madam Pomfrey," she says, filling a second container with the ocher paste, "please don't think that I'm being ungrateful… I just wanted to know when I would actually be able to help."

"Help? Miss Greengrass, you are helping," the Healer says.

"I know. But I want to try something more hands-on. I have read plenty of theory on Healing, but I feel like it's time that I actually practice."

Madam Pomfrey is silent for a moment as she considers this. After several seconds, she cracks a smile. "There's that Slytherin ambition," she says, amusement clear in her voice. "Okay. I can let you look after the next patient. I'll stay close and supervise, of course."

Before Daphne can answer, three Hufflepuff boys come in, carrying a fourth between them. "He fell from his broom," one of them says. "I think he might have cracked his skull."

Daphne takes a deep breath. It's more extreme than she would have hoped for, but it's her chance. She catches Madam Pomfrey's eye, and the older woman offers her a reassuring smile.

That's all it takes. With a grin, Daphne springs into action. She can do this.


	15. Mauve (Daphne and Millicent)

_Daphne and Millicent, mauve _

_Word Count: 356_

* * *

Daphne hears sobs coming from the dormitory. She frowns, pushing the door open. Millicent is alone, a shattered a mirror at her feet. "Mil?" Daphne approaches, careful not to startle her. The last thing she needs is for Millicent to start throwing punches. Daphne has never been much of a fighter. "What's wrong?"

The other girl looks up. Mauve paints her eyelids. In some places, the purple powder clings to her eyebrows. Seeing Daphne only seems to make things worse. She cries out, wiping the back of her hand over her eyes. Mauve streaks her pale skin. "I'm hideous."

"No. You're not."

Millicent scoffs. "Easy for you to say. You don't look like you were born with some bloody mutation."

Millicent doesn't either, but Daphne doesn't say this. Right now, she has a feeling her friend won't be receptive. Instead, Daphne waves her wand and mutters the Summoning Charm, sending her makeup bag flying to her hand. "Tell you what," she says, plucking a thing of eyeliner from the bag and tossing it onto the bed. "I can teach you to apply makeup."

She's never actually shown anyone how to do this, though she's had plenty of practice on herself and her little sister. Maybe it won't be hard. Besides, she thinks that Millicent mostly just needs a nudge in the right direction.

Millicent considers tor a moment before nodding. "Okay."

She guides the other girl along, teaching her about the different types of makeup and how to apply them. Millicent's hand is shaky, but she does well for herself, blending her foundation and lining her eyes. After nearly an hour, she's done. Daphne would say that not much has changed. The mauve is balanced out with grey and a soft pink, and her blemishes are covered.

But that isn't what makes Millicent look beautiful. Millicent smiles a genuine smile, the first Daphne has seen in a long time. She looks so genuinely happy that it breaks Daphne's heart.

"I'm…" Millicent touches her fingertips carefully to the blush on her cheeks. "I'm pretty."

"You always have been," Daphne says.

She just wishes Millicent could see it.


End file.
